Gregor and the Bloodbath of Regalia
by BlueJayWalker10
Summary: It's been four years since Gregor has ever uttered the words "fly you high," rode a bat, taken part in a prophecy, or been to the kingdom of Regalia. Everyone in his family saw it as a blessing. Well, everyone but him. One fateful day, Gregor runs into a familiar Halflander child, Hazard, who has come to the Overland, saying that Regalia is calling for Gregor's help once more.
1. Chapter 1

"Seal the gates! Everybody inside! Soldiers, mount up and prepare for battle!" Luxa shouted. She heard the familiar flapping of bat wings. She turned to face the bat.

"What is your message, rid-" she choked on her words. A large, powerful, glossy black bat landed quietly next to her. "Ares?" Luxa whispered.

"No, Your Highness." The bat's voice was a low purr that sounded much like Ares's, making Luxa all the more curious. "I am but his own son."

Luxa raised an eyebrow. Ares had all but become an outcast amongst the bats. "His _son_?" she repeated.

The large bat nodded, his glossy fur shining in the torchlight.

"Cousin! Is there anything I can do that would be of assistance?" Hazard ran up to her.

Luxa remembered what Nerissa had told her the week prior.

 _"Beware. Though the Warrior is no longer mentioned in any of Sandwich's prophecies, I have had visions of a great war while we are regrouping. And the Warrior is there, too."_

 _"You needn't worry, cousin," said Luxa gently._

She looked at the bat claiming to be Ares's son. "What is your name?"

"Devius," the bat said graciously.

"Devius, know you the location of the entrance to the Overland?" she asked.

"Yes, Your Highness."

She looked between the Halflander child and the bat.

Finally, she made up her mind.

"Devius, are you willing to take Hazard to the Overland in search of the Warrior?" she asked, though it wasn't much of a question as an order phrased as one.

Hazard lit up. "Oh! The Overland?"

Gregor sighed boredly as he drummed his fingers on his school desk, trying not to drift off. But it was difficult, as he had no interest in literature whatsoever.

Often, even though it pained him, to stay awake he would repeat the prophecies in his head.

 _Beware, Underlanders, time hands by a thread._

 _The hunters are hunted, white water runs red._

 _The gnawers will strike to extinguish the rest._

 _The hope of the hopeless resides in a quest._

 _An Overland Warrior, a son of the sun,_

 _May bring us back light, may bring us back none._

 _But gather your neighbors and follow his call,_

 _Or the rats will most surely devour us all._

 _Two over, two under, of royal descent,_

 _Two fliers, two crawlers, two spinners assent._

 _One gnawer beside and one lost up ahead._

 _And eight will be left when we count up the dead._

 _The last to die must decide where he stands,_

 _The fate of the eight is contained in his hands._

 _So bid him take care, bit him look where he leaps,_

 _As life may be death and death life again reaps._

Oh, he sure knew that one. Almost loathed the thing. The Prophecy of Grey. . . The very thing that had thrown his world into chaos, but at the same time became his world.

 _If under fell, if over leaped,_

 _If life was death, if death life reaped,_

 _Something rises from the gloom,_

 _To make the Underland a tomb._

 _Hear it scratching down below,_

 _Rat of long forgotten snow._

 _Evil cloaked in a coat of white,_

 _Will the Warrior drain your light?_

 _What could turn the Warrior weak?_

 _What do burning gnawers seek?_

 _Just a barely speaking pup,_

 _Who holds the land of the under up._

 _Die the baby, die his heart._

 _Die his most essential part._

 _Die the peace that rules the hour,_

 _The gnawers have their key to power._

The Prophecy of Bane. . . . . At first, he'd thought that said baby was Boots. But no, that baby, was the Bane. The white rat of legend. . . . The Bane. But at the time, oh, the Bane, the Bane'd just been a baby. Completely innocent-even if he'd known what it'd do later on, Gregor couldn't have killed it then. Neither the baby nor his heart died.

 _Warmblood now a bloodborne death,_

 _Will rob your body of its breath,_

 _Mark your skin, and seal your fate._

 _The Underland becomes a plate._

 _Turn and turn and turn again._

 _You see the what but not the when._

 _Remedy and wrong entwine,_

 _And so they form a single vine._

 _Bring the Warrior from above,_

 _If yet his heart is swayed by love._

 _Bring the princess or despair,_

 _No crawlers care without her there._

 _Turn and turn and turn again._

 _You see the what but not the when._

 _Remedy and wrong entwine,_

 _And so they form a single vine._

 _Those whose blood runs red and hot,_

 _Must join to seek the healing spot._

 _In the cradle find the cure_

 _For that which makes the blood impure._

 _Turn and turn and turn again._

 _You see the what but not the when._

 _Remedy and wrong entwine,_

 _And so they form a single vine._

 _Gnawer, human, set aside_

 _The hatred that resides inside._

 _If the flames of war are fanned,_

 _All warmbloods loose the Underland._

 _Turn and turn and turn again._

 _You see the what but not the when._

 _Remedy and wrong entwine,_

 _And so they form a single vine._

The Curse of the Warmbloods. . . . . . Oh, he'd never forget that. Not in a million years. The Prophecy of Blood was the very thing that had almost killed him, his mother, Howard, Andromeda, Nike, and-and-

 _Ares._

Though he didn't wish to, his mind drifted-back to the moment they bonded. After his first quest.

 _The red bat echoed the last words Gregor had heard clearly. "Yes, who among us could ever trust him again?"_

 _"I could!" yelled Gregor, silencing the crowd. "I trust him with my life!" And then he knew that he needed to do._

 _He ran to Ares and extended his hand. The bat lifted his head in puzzlement, then understood. "Oh, no, Overlander," he whispered. "I could never accept."_

 _Gregor reached out and grabbed the claw on Ares's left wing with his right hand. You could hear a pin drop in the room as he spoke the words._

 _"Ares the flier, I bond to you,"_

 _That was all he could remember of the pledge Luxa had told him, but she was right behind him, feeding him the words in a whisper._

 _"Our life and death are one, we two._

 _"In dark, in flame, in war in strife,_

 _"I save you as I save my life."_

 _Some hope had come back into Ares. The warrior bonding with him was no guarantee he would escape banishment, but it was something that could not be easily ignored. Still, he hesitated._

 _"Say it," said Gregor softly. "Please say it back."_

 _And Ares finally did, replacing his name with Gregor's own._

 _"Gregor the human, I bond to you._

 _"Our life and death are one, we two._

 _"In dark, in flame, in war in strife,_

 _"I save you as I save my life."_

Gregor could feel the tears threatening to flow and had that familiar burning in the back of his throat. "Don't think about it," he thought. "It will only cause you more pain."

 _Dancing in the firelight,_

 _See the queen who conquers the night._

 _Gold flows from her, hot and bright._

 _Father, Mother, sister, brother,_

 _Off they go. I do not know,_

 _If we will see another._

 _Catch the nibblers in a trap,_

 _Watch the nibblers spin and snap._

 _Quiet while they take a nap,_

 _Father, Mother, sister, brother,_

 _Off they go. I do not know,_

 _If we will see another._

 _Now the guests are at our door,_

 _Greet they as we have before._

 _Some will slice and some will pour,_

 _Father, Mother, sister, brother,_

 _Off they go. I do not know,_

 _If we will see another._

What they had once thought to be a simple, harmless child's rhyme had turned out to be the most horrifying of prophecies to be uncovered.

 _"..._ fine. _Gregor!"_

He realized that his teacher asked him something.

"Uh, yes, Mr. Fletcher?" Gregor sputtered. Mr. Fletcher was quick to anger and he already looked irritated.

Mr. Fletcher sighed in frustration. "Gregor, I was asking if you would so _kindly-_ " he put an angry emphasis on the word "-read the next few paragraphs in the book. . ."

Gregor looked down at what they were reading for literature: _Where the Red Fern Grows._ It was apparently some classic-and at times, Gregor did find it interesting. He began to read aloud.

"Our wait wasn't long. My dog's breathing grew faster and faster, and there was a terrible rattling in his throat. I knelt down and laid his head in my lap. Old Dan must have known he was dying. Just before he drew one last sigh, and a feeble thump of his tail, his friendly gray eyes closed forever. At first I couldn't believe my ba-" Gregor cut himself off before finishing the sentence. He'd let his mind drift while reading and had nearly slipped up.

Gregor took a deep breath, then continued.

"At first, I couldn't believe my dog was dead. I started talking to him. 'Please don't die, Dan,' I pleaded.'" Gregor turned the page, accidentally nicking his finger on the book, causing it to bleed.

The moment of his bond's death flooded his senses.

The feeling of Ares's claw in his hand. There was a white rat. A blue glow. The metallic, coppery smell of blood, whether it be Ares's, the Bane's, or his, he was unaware. The book clattered to the ground as he put his head between his hands and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a guttural cry of pain.

He bellowed an unintelligible word, the sound of utter grief and anguish clear in his voice.

"G-Gregor. . ?" Mr. Fletcher asked tentatively. "Are you. . . all right?"

Mr. Fletcher's words did not mean anything to him, though. His head was swimming and so was the classroom. His teacher's disoriented words and voice barely made it to him.

"Somebody get the nurse. . . " he heard his teacher call before he was enveloped in the sweet bliss of oblivion.

"... traumatic experience with this Ares figure. . ." somebody said. Gregor groaned and struggled to sit up in the bed that was in the nurse's office.

"Ah! You're awake, I see," said the school nurse, Miss Xavier, a motherly woman somewhere in her thirties with a kind smile and glossy chocolate brown hair. She put a hand on his back and helped prop him up on the pillows behind him.

"W-what happened?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He noticed that his parents were in the room with him and the nurse.

"Ah, well, it seems-" Ms. Xavier began.

Gregor's father, Harold, took over.

"You had another. . . attack," he said.

"Mr. Andrews, you can't just let this keep going! This boy needs help-" she tried to lecture his parents again.

"Enough." This time, it was Gregor who spoke.

"No siree, young man. Not by a long shot-" Ms. Xavier persisted.

"I said _enough!_ " Gregor raised his voice, shocking both his parents and the nurse. "I'm _tired_ of everything!" he let what he'd been thinking for the past four years tumble out in one rant. "I understand you mean well, but recommending me to therapist after psychologist after therapist is driving me _nuts!_ Nothing, _NOTHING_ has worked, and you know it!" he gave one last exasperated huff, then silenced himself.

His parents looked at each other in shock, then looked at the nurse.

"Well, I'm no professional, but I certainly know that if the person who is receiving help doesn't want it, it won't do any good," the nurse said. "I'm sending him home for the day, in case he has another attack."


	2. Chapter 2

Gregor gently closed his bedroom door and set his backpack down, walking forward and falling face first into his bed.

His bedroom wouldn't have seemed like much to most people, but to Gregor, who had been living in a closet cubby for the majority of his life, it could have been a five star hotel suite.

His floor was some once-plush beige carpet, with walls the same color. He had one window that was fairly grimy when he arrived there. Since then it had been cleaned multiple times, but there was still a tan-ish tint in some areas. His bed was pressed up to the far side of the wall, an oak desk next to it for homework and other purposes.

"Gregor. . ?" Harold called. Gregor heard him rapping on his door.

"Door's open," Gregor said flatly. His father stepped in.

Though his father had been plagued with trembling hands, horrible fevers, and worse nightmares when he had returned to Gregor's family, slowly, bit by bit-with some Underland intervention and medicine-he had healed. He'd finally been returned to the strong, happy, healthy state he had been in before he was taken to the Underland.

"Hey, buddy. . ." Harold said, sitting on the bed beside Gregor, rubbing his son's shoulder.

"What?" Gregor grumbled through the pillow.

"You know, Gregor, I was trapped in the Underland by the rats for some two years now. I had PTSD too. I still have attacks now and again. Nightmares. . . You know, son, you can talk to me if you need to."

"The only thing I want to talk about is how to get back to the Underland, the only place where I can live and not feel empty. . ." Gregor thought.

"You said that aloud, bud."

Gregor grabbed the pillow his face wasn't planted in and hit Harold with it halfheartedly.  
"Now now Gregor. . . would your HEMA* master say that was the right thing?" It was his father's idea to get him into HEMA-historical European martial arts- so he could make sure he had he discipline to keep a firm grasp on his rager sense.

Harold reached under the bed and pulled out a long, thin case made of black cloth with a strap so he could carry it on his back. The silver of a steel pommel stuck out, with the lip of a sheath the same color as the cloth just peeking out the top.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in an actual sword fight." He drew the sword.

It wasn't hand-crafted an inlaid with jewels, as Sandwich's sword was. Nor was it made of fine steel or sharper than a razor. No, but the sword was just as important to Gregor. It was a gift to him from his master, when he realized that Gregor was already a fine swordsman who simply needed pointers here and there.

 _"I'm not a therapist, or a psychiatrist, or a psychic for that matter. But I_ do _know when someone is hurting. When someone has a troubled past. I myself have one. Many men I work with do. And I_ do _know a master of the sword when I see one. You hardly need much help from me. . . So I'm giving you this,"_ Master Trent had said when he gave him the sword. Gregor sighed.

"I wouldn't suggest taking me on," Gregor replied.

Harold chuckled at that. "Probably not." He carefully drew his hand across the flat of the blade. "I'll tell you when dinner's ready." He sheathed the blade, gently sliding the sheath into the black cloth bag. He stepped out of the room.

Gregor rolled.

Something hit his window.

Gregor ignored it, brooding.

Something else hit his window. Then another.

Gregor finally rolled back over, standing up. He walked over to his window and opened it, poking his head out.

He got nailed in the face by a battery.

A battery? He looked down.

A black-haired, green-eyed, pale boy stood outside his window, rummaging around in a bag. He was wearing a navy blue pullover and grey jeans.

 _"Hazard?"_ Gregor asked in shock.

He looked up. "I'm a bit older now, but yes. It is I."

Gregor burst outside his bedroom door and jumped down the stairs.

"Hey, Gregor, sweetie. . ." his mother called when she saw him. "Hold up!" she shouted when he ignored her and ran straight past. "Dinner'll be ready-what are you running for, Gregor?"

Gregor flew out the door-almost crashing straight into it-and, finally, in his haste, forgot that the front porch had stairs.

He promptly fell face first down them, only at the last minute tucking into a shoulder roll-as his master had trained him.

Hazard jumped with his characteristic happiness. Seems that four years didn't change anything.

"That was amazing!" Hazard exclaimed. "What else can you do? Can you do the Great Course, like Luxa?"

Gregor laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

Lizzie ran out the door to see what the commotion was about. "You practically flew out the door and then I heard you laugh-you haven't laughed since-" she silenced the moment she saw Hazard.

"That's him, isn't it?" she whispered. "Luxa's cousin. Hazard, was it?"

Hazard nodded. "I am he."

Lizzie fainted. Gregor caught her, then looked at Hazard.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"No, no," Gregor said, sweeping Lizzie up in a princess carry. "When did I get so strong?" Gregor wondered absently. "She's just. . . Shocked to see an Underlander. We thought we left that life behind."

"Well, Gregor, you see. . . we have an issue." Hazard became very interested in his shoes.

"What do you mean, an _'issue?'"_ Gregor inquired, nudging the door open with his foot.

"We have a war on our hands," Hazard said flatly.

"So, solve it without me. You've done it before."

". . . A civil war. And they're screaming for the Warrior's blood."

A/N: I'm really sorry about spending SOO long updating it. . . I was overwhelmed with school-final exams and all that-but that's over now. In June, I just had a bunch of camps. . . But now I'm home, and promotion exams are over! Now, I might be able to update this more often than once a year.

One more thing: I've changed it from cutters to a civil war. Have fun with that!

*HEMA is very self-explanatory. It's a grouping of traditional European fighting styles compiled into one martial art (because there weren't really any specific martial arts like Asia had-it was more just "this is what my father taught me" or "this is how knights fight and that's just that").


	3. Chapter 3

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p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b85c3bfee8ded2930f03fb3abbbd1c92""Here, Gregor, can you help me with this for a moment?" Grace asked./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e2147c621bde22fe3105e2f650f77e0c""Here it comes," Gregor thought. He stood up and walked away./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3fae210e32c09ba6a3fa66e57e971729""Ha-zard. . ." Boots muttered softly. "That is a familiar name. . . "/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="62b93941e3fd1824d085672a3f578446"Gregor's mother dragged him into the kitchen./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="bef83850bfdd6afa409cecbb2ff3d0e1""An Underlander?" she hissed quietly. "Gregor-we moved to Vriginia to get em style="box-sizing: border-box;"away/em from the Underland."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3a418894010b23bd7be835635bb2c365"Gregor twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Mom, Hazard came from New York-which couldn't have been easy on his own-to ask for my help."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ce036553281f884942e75f4c0c377e9a"Gregor's mother took his shoulders gently. "Gregor," she said softly, staring into his eyes. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a93302742dcb2d97834c13b7cc68451d"Eyes that had seen too much for a boy so young./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6e4cbcf4ba2865c683b3388c1a3e1923""You know what happened in the Underland, in Regalia," she said./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="274cd71ec184df1c5f525299dfacc768"Gregor stared right back at her, unwavering. "You weren't even there. You never saw the horrors I did."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6fa91f511864dd01fa3d87d897599034""Which is exactly why I don't want you to go back! Why em style="box-sizing: border-box;"nobody /emin this family is em style="box-sizing: border-box;"ever/em going back!" she exclaimed./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e80d4cb09d4a02568738344fc53cee3f""Mom." Gregor shrugged her hands off his shoulders. "You em style="box-sizing: border-box;"forced/em me to leave the one place I felt was home. The Underland."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a9237bdd9025ec25f6b17327e7222410"Grace sighed, running a hand over her face. "What did. . . em style="box-sizing: border-box;"It/em ask you to do?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="58e5869fbfaf9e0f1909e26b3fa000a0"Gregor stared flatly-almost angrily-at his mother. "First off, he's not an em style="box-sizing: border-box;"it. /emHis name is Hazard and he's a Halflander child; half Overlander, half Underlander. Second, he hasn't asked me for anything."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2d1a702d702076203d9c600ee05c21f1""Yet," Grace muttered./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="c67cf52a0577cc49db031397e00c2773"Gregor was getting frustrated at how rude his mother was being. "Mom! Don't you remember what the Underland has done for us? We hardly had anything-but the Underlanders gave us money. They let us sell em style="box-sizing: border-box;"their/em artifacts so em style="box-sizing: border-box;"we/em could eat!" He threw his hands up in exasperation./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="00546b5b624541ec9d1791da83b226d2""And they were the ones who took your father from us. They gave him the nightmares, and em style="box-sizing: border-box;"you /emPTSD," she said without missing a beat./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cbb836f044ae3650750c1a13ef347e44"Gregor ran a hand through his hair. "And they tried to make up for their mistakes. They gave him medicine. They treated em style="box-sizing: border-box;"you /emfor your ailment when you were down there. em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Luxa/em of all people treated em style="box-sizing: border-box;"you/em with em style="box-sizing: border-box;"respect!"/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e3395809d3725dbb23a3fe3fe878ae37"After mentioning Luxa, Gregor felt a deep would in his heart-one he thought had healed-re-open. In that moment, he realized something. He missed her more than he thought he did./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="bde928f86d6951b3cd8ebc249464668d"And he still loved her./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f2b86e9aef538c03395001f055f3875e""They treated me for an illness em style="box-sizing: border-box;"they/em gave me," Grace retorted. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="151726333129750c0016abc1ce984a0c"Gregor got angry, fed up with his mother. "Fine!" he shouted, done with fighting her. "Fine. Do what you want. Hate them. Hate Hazard. Disrespect Ares, the bat who em style="box-sizing: border-box;"died/em to save em style="box-sizing: border-box;"my /emlife."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="75f52dfc0c98fa271a22cde2d6ad7773""That's what gave you PTS-" Grace tried to interrupt. But Gregor wasn't finished. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="76583de93196f620fac0b0651f229811""Oh, you're gonna use em style="box-sizing: border-box;"that? /emYou're really going down em style="box-sizing: border-box;"there? /emI knew you'd do some low things, Mom, but I didn't realize you'd use Ares's death against me./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7522e16b4de0f6b7d022b3c05aaccfbe""Hate all the good people in the Underland, Mom," Gregor continued. "You can hate them all you like, disrespect the people I love, but I'm not going to stay here. I can't feel accepted. You pretend they aren't there, but the scars on my are still visible when I'm in PE. We had swimming the other day-can you imagine how fun it was to explain to everyone why I looked like I ran through trees with branches made of broken glass?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6ab0bb48885d5f5b6bca3e8e5f95112c""Gregor, you can't be seriou-"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0a93f3a9e7ab14ced9b751b66b471109""Oh, and my fit when I almost killed Parker Wakefield the other week? I sank back into my rager mode. I can't control it, Mom. I can't!" he shouted. "I'm a freak. The deadly boy with PTSD and scars all over his body. I can't tell anyone em style="box-sizing: border-box;"anything/em about what's happened to me, and even if they did, they'd just look at me like I was crazy." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="553d24aef63cff5f543f7f4033fac205"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Gregor!" /emGrace snapped./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="121cc5bccfbbb68b86b4bc7f2a6a7355""No, Mom. I'm not letting you get the upper hand of me. If Hazard comes asking for help, you can bet I'm going back down to the Underland. At least em style="box-sizing: border-box;"they /emwon't pretend half of my life never happened."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2615073f81927cb439dd0ae88c230085"Gregor stormed out of the room./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="203bece4ce84dc7e5249e2ac6cb6d94e""I just want you to be safe," his mother said softly./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="eec4961e3353ff657003686613cc0a0f"Harold walked into the room, putting an arm around his wife. "He has to grow up someday." He rubbed Grace's shoulder. "You can't keep him forever."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="bfa2521c2ffe6500d2455106a4fb8f6c"_/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4c031bc4861f972d3fadef8ae9f12a13"A/N: 'Sup guys? I decided to crank out a third chapter of this fanfiction before I left for my cousin's vow renewal tomorrow. Hope I didn't fail too badly!/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d75a5613392e21217cae2e138c336db0"-Jay/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="26478db11a74b3c8675f463fee30cba7" /p 


	4. Chapter 4

Hazard and Boots were happily chatting away when Gregor returned. At some point, Lizzie had woken up and was reading the book Gregor had placed in front of her.

"Dinner's on!" Gregor heard Harold shout.

"Would you like some?" Gregor asked Hazard, motioning towards the kitchen.

"Actually, I have something else I need to take care of first," Hazard said. "I'll be back." He ran for the front door.

"C'mon, Liz. We've got your favorite navel oranges-we had a fresh crop this morning," he said.

"The kind with the thick skin?" she asked excitedly. She loved those.

"The kind with the thick skin," Harold confirmed, poking his head in the room. "But I'll eat 'em all if you kids don't get in here, quick!" He smiled and slid back into the kitchen.

Gregor poked absently at his food, trying to be considerate of his mother's work but at the same time not being very hungry.

"Everything all right, Gregor?" his father asked.

"Yeah," he said halfheartedly.

Gregor tossed and turned on his bed.

Even though it was the middle of September, the farm on Virginia didn't seem to notice. It was roasting in Gregor's cramped room. Even with only a set of thin basketball shorts on, the heat was too intense for him to sleep.

Gregor got up. He'd go get a cool washcloth for his pillow.

 _Crash!_

Someone was thrown through his window and into Gregor.

Gregor cried out, stumbling backwards into the wall.

"Oh. Sorry about that." Hazard got off Gregor, turning to face him. He shook the glass fragments from his hair.

Gregor placed a hand over his eyes to protect himself from the onslaught of glass shards.

"Gregor!" Harold came bursting into the room, wearing nothing but a robe and sweatpants.

"Dad-Dad, I'm fine," Gregor sputtered, regaining his surroundings. "It's Hazard."

Gregor heard his father's sigh of relief, and saw the tension drain out of his shoulders. "What are you _doing_ so late in the night?"

"Fetching the Overlander," Hazard said bluntly.

"What?"

"Dear, what's going on?" Gregor's mother walked into the room, rubbing an eye.

"Everything's fine, Grace," he said, putting an arm around her. "There was an accident. It's nothing. Go back to bed," he said gently.

She yawned. "Fine," she said deliriously, walking off. Harold walked completely into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"What do you mean, 'Fetching the Overlander?'"

"I mean what I said," Hazard said. "The Underland is once more in turmoil, and requires the Warrior's help."

"What for?"

Hazard looked at Gregor.

"It's fine, Hazard," he said. "Tell Dad what you told me."

"There happens to be a civil war taking place," he stated.

"Oh, then my answer's simple," Harold said. "No."

"Wait-" Hazard began.

"No, Dad," Gregor interrupted. "I'm going to help them. And you can't stop me."

"No, you're not. And I most certainly can. What about your sisters? Your mother? Do you remember her sleepless nights, the worry she felt every time you disappeared?"

"I do, more than you think," he said quietly. "I felt the same every day you were gone. I counted, you know. The days."

Harold's face softened. "Still, I don't think you should-"

 _Woosh._

A strong gust came through the now broken window.

A familiar silhouette was flying outside the window.

Glossy black fur, impressive wings. A bat. A large, powerful, lustrous black bat.

"Ares?" Gregor whispered. Or, tried to. His voice caught in his throat.

"I am but his humble son, Devius," he said in a low purr.

Just like Ares used to.

"His _son?"_ Gregor asked. "Who would have had a son with him?" he wondered. Ares had been all but exiled from the other bats.

"I heard much of the Overlander from my father," he said.

"Well I didn't hear much of you from him," Gregor thought offhandedly, almost offended that his bat wouldn't tell him of this.

"Gregor, you have a choice," Devius continued. "You can stay here, where it's clear you are displeased-the reasons why, I am unaware-or you may assist the people who helped bring your father home," he rumbled.

"You don't have to guilt me into coming," Gregor said softly. "I've been yearning to go back; where else can I go where I will be paraded as a hero, rather than scorned and laughed at for the scars I bear?"

Gregor went to his bed and procured a bag. The feeling was oddly nostalgic as he removed his schoolwork from his backpack and replaced it all with things he had slowly, unknowingly gathered over the years. Sturdy working boots-the kind with steel toes. These ones were new, and fit him properly this time. A heavy-duty flashlight, followed by a smaller headlamp. A water bottle. One with the sports spritzer, in case he overheated while he was working out pulling carrots or tilling the farmlands. Sturdy denim work pants. A multi-tool that contained not only pliers and a knife, but a fork and spoon amongst other things.

Everything he placed in the bag tenderly, with something like reverence.

Finally, he pulled the prize from under his bed.

The sword his master had given him.

"It's nothing like Sandwich's sword," he laughed. "But it's been with me for a while, now. Helped me soldier through the pain." He thought for a moment.

"I think I'll leave it here."

He placed the sword back under his bed.

"Be safe," his father said. And with that, Gregor paused for a moment. Did he really want to go back?

Yes. Yes, he did. If only once last time, he wanted to see the beautiful stone kingdom of Regalia and its everlasting night. The citizens. His friends, Mareth and Howard, and, and. . .

Luxa.

"We're taking the path of the waterways back, Overlander," Hazard said.

Gregor poked his head out the window.

"Overlander, jump!" Devius purred. He sounded so much like his father.

"I never thought I'd do this again," Gregor thought. He turned around one last time to face his father.

"Fly you high, Dad."

He jumped.

A/N: So? Did you like it? Was it worth the wait? No?

I thought so.

I am SO, SO SORRY.

I've been at a loss for inspiration these past couple months. But tonight, as two of my friends were getting married and I was preparing to leave for Thanksgiving and see some of my siblings (they all live in Utah, ever since they graduated from or left to study at BYU Provo) after a while, I felt like, "HEY! Let's write some more fanfiction!"

And here we are. . .

Hope you liked it, and please don't be _too_ upset for the long wait for such a short (and crappy) chapter.

'Night!

Happy Thanksgiving,

-Jay


	5. Chapter 5

Gregor grunted. Devius's back was not the most comfortable landing platform.

"You didn't lose your riding skills with time, did you?" Hazard asked.

Gregor shook his head to catch his bearings. "I don't know. I haven't ridden a bat in four years, but it might be like riding a bike-you can get rusty, but you don't really ever lose the ability."

Hazard looked at him, puzzled. "Bike?"

Gregor mentally kicked himself. "It's a form of transportation, that's all."

"Devius is a powerful bat, so hold on tight," Hazard warned.

"If he's anything like his father, it's exp-" Gregor bit his tongue as Devius flapped his powerful wings, shooting upwards. It seemed as if Gregor had underestimated his bat's kin.

Gregor watched as the old farmhouse got smaller and smaller below him as Devius flew, until he could no longer see the place he could never quite call home.

"Give me more than the basics. What else is going on? Why do they want _my_ blood?" Gregor asked. The night air was cold. He'd wished he'd had the wisdom to bring something to keep him warm, as he realized he was still in his basketball shorts. At least he'd put on a shirt.

"We really don't know much more than what I told you. Ivor has collected a band of Halflanders and those whom we banished; we never dreamed they would join forces, led alone prosper as they have. They've themselves weapons and armor of metal, and either someone needs to get fired, or they've found a place to make decent farmlands. Somewhere we haven't discovered," he finished.

Gregor stroked Devius's fur idly. "Somewhere in the uncharted lands?"

Hazard nodded. "Most likely."

"How are they assaulting Regalia?" Gregor pictured a bunch of grimy men trying to chip away at the magnificent walls with a spoon like he'd seen in a prison escape movie a few days before.

"Catapults. They're catapulting large stones over the walls and they're causing immense damage-more than we can repair. But every time we send out soldiers and their mounts, they return the favor. Their soldiers are more than a match for our infantry. We're holding on by a spinner's thread," he said.

Gregor watched Hazard's flying skills as he processed everything the boy said. "Lighten up on your legs," Gregor commented. "Devius is stronger, larger, and steadier than Thalia. You don't need to hold onto him as tightly. He'll support you."

Hazard blinked, then made the adjustments as Gregor mentioned.

"Ahh, that's much more comfortable," Devius purred a moment later. He stretched his wings wider and his beats became more stable and flowing. "You needn't worry, Halflander. I will not let you fall."

Gregor steeled himself. "Hazard, do you mind if I lead him for a time? You've been traveling. Sleep." He omitted the fact that he wished to once more feel a bat's strong wings directly under him and the low breathing that only a bat as large as Ares could ever emulate.

The Halflander boy nodded, shifting his seat. Gregor slid forward. "You can use my pack as a pillow, if you like," he offered.

Hazard shook his head. "No, I have my own supplies I like to use." He removed a large pack from Devius's neck and lay his head on it. Gregor soon heard Hazard's breathing turn to the steady pattern of sleep.

"Devius, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Yes, Overlander," he hummed.

"Why did Ares never tell me of you?"

"I was born during your expedition to the Vineyard of Eyes, the pup of a cream colored bat named Hestia. Ares never saw fit to tell you of me because he did not wish to burden you with the life of someone he knew you would want to protect," he said. "You had enough you had to do; he didn't want you to feel responsible for a life he wasn't sure would survive."

Gregor mused over that for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Hestia?"

"Another bat that was outcasted from the others, though for what reason, I was never told," he answered smoothly. "I don't know if she lives or not. It has been a long time since I have seen her. Even longer since I have seen my father."

Gregor swallowed, knowing it was his fault. "I'm sorry," he began.

"There is no need to apologize, Overlander, for Ares did what he wanted to do. Neither you nor I could ever have stopped him from going into battle with you."

Gregor silently agreed.

"You have been through much today, Overlander," Devius said. "Sleep. It will do you well. I will not lead you astray or let you fall. I will wake you when the time is right."

Gregor lay down, listening to the low rumble that was Devius's breathing. He hardly felt the gentle breeze flowing through his hair and Devius's fur brushing against his arms as he fell asleep.

"Overlander. Overlander!"

Gregor snapped awake, launching himself upwards so quickly he fell off the bat before he realized what he was doing.

"Overlander!" Devius shouted, diving for Gregor. Hazard cried out and seized Devius's fur.

Gregor processed this all in one moment as he was plummeting to New York City's in a deadly free fall.

"Ares!" he shouted reflexively as he saw the big bat swooping to save him. "I'm here!"

He landed on Devius's back with a _fwoomp._

"I am honored you think of me as my sire, but I am not him, Overlander," Devius rasped, gasping for breath.

And suddenly the death of his bat hit him in its full force all over again. He was gone. Ares was gone. Gregor realized that somewhere in the back of his head, he'd always hoped that Ares was alive, somewhere in the Underland. Somewhere, he would find his bond.

Devius's existence had finally closed that door for him. His bond was gone. He would never again spend time with him in their secret cave, or stroke his fur, or race Luxa and Aurora.

Gregor held his head in his hands and silently wept, mourning his dead friend.

"Gregor, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but the waterways are, well, watery. I'd suggest you prepare yourself for a cold landing, lest you be shocked and fall from Devius once more," Hazard intervened. The Halflander pulled two black items from his pack.

Gregor shook his head clear. "Of course. Where are they?"

Hazard pointed below them. "There." He handed what seemed to be a large black cloak to Gregor. "It will help keep the water out," he said. He procured a long, thin bag and handed it to Gregor.

"I believe you'll want this."

Gregor finished tying off his cloak and took the bag. As he removed the contents, his breath caught in his throat.

"Sandwich's sword," he whispered. "I broke this," he said. "I broke this," he repeated, getting agitated that they'd disrespected his choice. "Four years ago. I snapped this blade in half. I wanted the war to end I knew the only way would be to end the blade and end the Warrior. So why? Why reforge it? Why can't I just come as Gregor the Overlander?"

"Because," Hazard said softly, "we need Gregor the Overland Warrior now, more than ever."

"Ready up!" Devius interrupted. "We're going in!"

"Wait-" Gregor stammered, realizing what they were doing. "That's the Hudson-that's not-we'll-" Gregor's words were cut off as he plunged into the water with Devius and Hazard.

A/N: So, was the wait worth it? Sorry for not updating so much. I've been struggling with college classes and writer's block, whoopee. See how happy I am? But at least I've been able to write more. It's a joy to write, and it's a joy to see that others enjoy my work!

Have a nice night-or, if you're on the other side of the world, have a nice day!

-Jay


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